The-Spanish-Love-Deception-www.indianpdf

“And he’ll come to the wedding with you? To Spain?”
“Correct.”
A pause, making me realize my hands were sweating so much that the
phone would have slipped if I hadn’t been gripping it as tightly as I was.
“He’s in New York too, you said?”
“Yep.”
She hummed and then added, “American?”
“Raised and born.”
“What’s his name again?”
My breath got stuck somewhere along my throat. Shit. I hadn’t given
them a name, had I? I didn’t think I had, but …
My mind raced through my options very quickly. Desperately. I needed a
name. What an easy, manageable thing. A name.
A simple name.
A name of a man who didn’t exist or I still had to find.
“Lina … are you there?” my mother chimed. She laughed, somehow
sounding nervous. “Have you forgotten your boyfriend’s name?”
“Don’t be silly,” I told her, hearing my distress in my voice. “I …”
A shadow caught my eye, distracting me. My gaze shot to my office door,
and exactly how he had wedged himself into my life one year and eight
months ago—with horrifyingly bad timing—Aaron Blackford walked
through the threshold and placed himself in the eye of the storm.
“Lina?” I thought I heard my mother say.
In two strides, he was in front of me, across my desk, letting a stack of
papers drop on its surface.
What is he doing?
We didn’t visit each other’s offices. We never needed, wanted, or
bothered to.
That icy-blue gaze of his fell on me. It was followed by a frown, as if he
were wondering why I looked like a woman currently dealing with a lifethreatening
crisis. Which was exactly what I was doing. Getting caught in a
lie was far worse than lying. After only a couple of seconds, his expression
morphed into an appalled one. I could see the judgment in his eyes.
Out of every single person who could have walked into my office right
now, it’d had to be him.
Why, Lord? Why?
“Aaron,” I heard myself say in a pained voice.